I'm standing, staring at a mirror adorned with profane runes. The reflection I see is not mine, but of someone I thought I would never see again.

"What's the matter, Jeancito? Not happy to see me?" He smiles at me.

I close my eyes and hold my head in my hands.

I'm so confused right now. Not just because this situation makes no sense at all, but also because I don't know how to react to seeing him again.

Am I angry? Am I happy? Am I relieved? I have no idea.

"Why?" I ask, trying to regain my composure. "Why are you here?"

"I'm not exactly here. I'm, in fact, nowhere." Camilo answers, always with his riddles.

"That doesn't make sense. I always thought Kheldash's master was an Elder Demonlord."

"Yep."

"Yep?" I frown my forehead.

"I am." He replies with his typical annoying smile.

"You are?"

"Oh my Dark Lord. Have you always been this slow? Yeah, I'm an elder demonlord. Well, sort of. I'm much older than you, Jeancito. Two hundred years older, to be exact."

My eyes widen.

"I was one of the first from our group to arrive in Erdonya after the bus accident. It seems that the arrival order is related to the seating arrangement. An interval of a hundred years for each row of seats."

What madness. So, the master of Farat, who was born exactly a hundred years before me and could speak English for some reason, was probably someone from my class.

"So, you arrived here with the teacher and the driver?" I ask Camilo.

"Yes. A hundred years later, the second group of students came. Another hundred years, and you arrived here. This means your beloved Grant will only be arriving in this world by the end of the Millennium." Camilo lets out a wicked sneer.

Screw Grant. This is all madness.

"And do you know the reason behind all of this?" I ask uneasily.

"Perhaps..." He replies evasively. "I have my theories, but you don't need to know right now."

"And what do you want from me then?" I ask, quite irritated.

"¡Dios mío! Always in a foul mood. It's a shame I'm without a physical body, otherwise, I could help you relieve some stress..."

"Just spit it out, you jerk! My patience is running out."

"Sigh... I want you to just keep doing what you're already doing, emo boy. Keep fooling around with your goblins, burning some things. Playing king."

"And why should I do things the way you want?" I grit my teeth.

"Because there's nothing else for you to do."

I can't argue with that.

This idiot... All this time I've been dancing in the palm of his hand. Why does he always act like he knows me and knows what I want? If he always knew what I wanted, why didn't he give it to me? Why play with me? Why does everything have to be so hard?

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"Fuck you!" I punch the mirror, cracking it.

The shattered image of Camilo lets out another sigh as he stares at me with a cold gaze.

"Listen, Jean. I don't exactly know what's happening either, but I do know that there are people who want to take down monsters like us. But I won't be slain like a beast. I was outcasted too much in our previous world for being different, and I won't let the same happen in this world. Not as long as I can fight back."

For the first time, I feel like he's speaking seriously to me.

"I'm trying to gather the students from our class who have been strayed like us. Just as I'm gathering the strays of all Erdonya. Cambions, goblinoids, undead, and all kinds of monsters. Our army is meant to fight against this world. So I need you to play your part in this theater.

¿Lo entendiste… Your Majesty?"

§ § § § § §

"Your Majesty?"

"Your Majesty?"

A voice wakes me up from my dream. A dream that felt more like a replay of a recent memory.

I was taking a nap in one of the tents at the camp set up in a clearing near the siege. It's been almost two weeks since Stroi has been besieged, and my patience is wearing thin.

"I apologize for interrupting your rest, but you asked me to let you know when the alchemist convoy arrived." The orc Sarak speaks, avoiding eye contact as she looks at the ground.

"Finally. Maybe now we can break through their defense line." I say in relief.

A siege has proven to be a terrible strategy against enemies with such an unusual metabolism. Trolls and trows can speed up their metabolism to activate their regenerative powers or slow it down during food shortages. This way, the city's food reserves are used only by the army while the population hibernates in their homes.

Since we couldn't starve them out, we decided to wear down their defenses. We couldn't fight against the trows every day, but we needed to keep pressing them relentlessly until their mages grew exhausted and could no longer cast fire wards at the city's front line. However, the trows had been preparing for this conflict for a long time. So they must possess a large reserve of fire resistance potions that they're likely using while their spellcasters rest.

"As soon as the alchemist gremlins finish their preparations, we will launch our next assault." I tell the orc, hoping she'll join to oversee the preparations, but she remains still in the tent.

"Is there something else, Sarak?"

"Yes... Does Your Majesty really need to resort to something so... Vile?" The shamaness seems to disapprove of my solution to the siege's ineffectiveness.

"There's no way to win a war of attrition against the trows. We need to break through their defense as quickly as possible. They're waiting for our troops to grow even more weary to counterattack." I speak as the orc falls silent, listening to my explanation.

"Your Majesty is surprisingly wise in the art of war. Quite different from what my father used to say."

She has a point. Since I became king, I started studying more about this kind of thing. It's no wonder my Fighter levels evolved or were replaced by Noble levels after my slumber.

"I've learned a lot from Kheldash. Despite your father never liking her, that cambion is quite useful."

"I don't know why my father never liked her." Sarak says, unaware of the truth. Well, little orc, I do know now.

"He was quite cautious. I still can't believe the trows got him." I speak with a bitter grin.

"Your Majesty seems to be bothered by something. Not just sadness, but something more." The shamaness speaks as if she can see through me.

I gaze at the battlefield map in silence. When I thought about how my classmates were dealing with this world, I always imagined them happy despite everything. And I always thought Camilo would be treating all of this like a game. Like he always did. So I tried to imitate him. But now I know he takes this seriously. If even he can't ignore the mark this world is leaving on us, how could I?

"I will check on the alchemist convoy, Your Majesty." The orc gets ready to leave the tent when I stop her.

"Live and die like the rest of your kind."

"Excuse me?"

"That was the last thing I said to your father." I start to speak, still staring at the battle map on the table. "He was my friend. The first one I had in my life. The few years we spent together mean a lifetime to me. And now he's gone."

"Your Majesty… Lonely is the life of the Everlastings, those who walk across the centuries and survive the tides of time. I hope you find someone to keep you company on your long journey. But in the meantime, let me be a part of a small piece of your life. Like a good memory to be cherished, just as my father was."

And once again, she reminds me so much of him.

I don't know if I'll make it through to the end of it all, but for now, I guess I can keep going.

"Very well, Sarak of the Southcaves, let's create more good memories now."

"Because what is about to happen will be very, very funny."